


Angel or Demon

by green_beetle



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_beetle/pseuds/green_beetle
Summary: Retelling of the events in The Phantom of the Opera (Webber's version), but focusing on a romance between Raoul and the Phantom. The whole cast of characters we know and love appear here, and Christine has something going on with Meg. Not everything will be about the Phantom and Raoul —we will see the rest of the characters dealing with the problems at the Opera Populaire as well—, but these two will be the main focus and central relationship.Drama, operas and occasional murders are still part of the plot!
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Meg Giry, Christine Daaé/Meg Giry, Raoul de Chagny & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	1. The Graveyard (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, whoever's interested in this! So, this is my first time writing a fanfic, I'd never really been lured by the idea, but now I've given up into the Phandom.
> 
> I’ve always loved Raoul, I think he's an interesting character and I want to develop him so that more people can appreciate this blond bitch. Also, my gay heart loves the idea of him and Erik, and I need Christine to get a break from men.
> 
> If some sentences are not understandable, if I made some typos, please do point them out. And feel free to leave a comment, suggestion, complaint, doubt or whatever you feel like sharing! (:

The Vicomte asked the coachman to leave, he wanted to be alone. Soon the sounds of hooves and wheels grew distant and faded. Raoul de Chagny looked around and noticed no one else was there, he was completely on his own. He eased and began to walk, past the rusty gates and into the graveyard.

Raoul had never been fond of cemeteries —but then, who was it?—. To some visiting the dead brought peace and comfort, an assurance that they were in a better place alongside the Lord, but standing now there in front the Phantom’s tombstone did not make grieve easier on Raoul. He’d been a pained soul, yes, marked by hate and horror, and in consequence he’d turned into an earthly demon. But, oh, how much had the Vicomte loved this demon of a man, and still did. Only he had received the heart of the Phantom of the Opera.

He kneeled slowly and respectfully, and caressed the carvings on the beautiful stone that he himself had ordered to be made after the destruction of the Opera Populaire. It boasted with the name of Raoul’s lover, no last name since he had none, no date of birth since no one alive knew, just “Erik”.

Rustling clothes and footsteps startled Raoul, he got up quickly and turn to the sounds. He smiled with surprise and ease. Mademoiselles Christine Daaé and Meg Giry walked toward him with elegance, arms interlaced. Raoul saluted them with a kiss on each of the women’s hands, but Christine still went for a hug.

“After so long” Raoul said, “I did not believe I would recognize either of you if we were to meet again, but you still have the looks of ten years ago”.

“Still such a flirt.” Christine laughed gently.

“And from what I’ve heard, you’re still queens of the stage.”

“Fortunately, yes. We have both been busy with our careers, singing here and there… Right, love?” Christine looked at Meg.

“Totally” she responded. “Although most of the offers come from morbid curiosity. The public is bound to pay if two survivors of the Phantom’s catastrophe are to perform.” Her eyes fell to the tombstone and she grew visibly uncomfortable.

“I suppose you come often here to visit your mother” Raoul said.

“Indeed…” Giry seemed to ponder what to say. “As a matter of fact, I should see her resting place, make sure everything’s in order”.

“Of course.”

The women kissed on the cheek and Meg began to leave.

“Oh, there’s no one around", the Vicomte told Meg, "no need for…” 

“I know”. She interrupted, then smiled awkwardly and left.

Christine put her arm through where Raoul’s crooked and they got closer to Erik’s grave.

“Is everything alright with Meg, Christine?”

“Yes, we’ve had some falling outs, like every couple does, but we grow stronger together. No matter how many years go by, love never dies, as you must know”. She looked at Raoul’s eyes, hers were saddened.

“Indeed, I do… God, Christine, we are old now, are we not? Memories of the time in the Opera seem to be more distant every new day, and I’m afraid I’ll forget him”.

“I doubt that could ever happen; besides, we are not that old.” She chuckled, but the laughter soon faded away. “He left us marked, for better or for worse”. She stared at a place beyond sight, probably where Meg stood before her mother’s grave.

“I know I shouldn’t have loved him, I know he was no good. And still…”

“Love is a curious thing, Raoul. I may be able to understand you. After all, it’s you and I who saw behind the mask”.

Raoul smiled, tears welled up in his blue eyes. “I miss him and I hate him. I feel conflicted everyday.”

“Do not hate, it is dangerous. Whatever pain happened in the past, let it go, cling to the joy of remembrance”.

Raoul de Chagny followed advice and sank in the deep waters of his mind, navigating through the old days in the Opera.


	2. The New Investor

The two new managers, led by the old one, entered the stage as soon as the rehearsal stopped. The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny thanked the Lord. The leading soprano —a chubby, small woman with brown hair— was trained very well, but her acting made her voice too exaggerate; after just two minutes, her over-the-top singing had become unbearable. Raoul noticed the proud way in which she stood and saluted the arriving men.

The Vicomte wasn’t among the people on the stage, he had told Messieurs Firmin and André that he had affairs to tend to, and in a way, he was not lying. Cloaked under shadows, he watched the welcoming of the new managers. Raoul was a man of caution, his decisions and actions took time and attention, therefore he hid inside one of the boxes surrounding the stage —one that had proved itself as a great hiding spot— to study the people of the Opera Populaire. «I need to look at the ship before climbing onboard» he thought.

Brother Philippe had pushed him into pursuing a job. “You can’t spend your whole life at our family’s expense!” he had told Raoul. “You’ve lived 22 summers. You are a man now, brother.” And so, the youngest de Chagny found a place in the Opera Populaire as an investor. He was no manager, but he still had a say in the decisions. Despite him not being the biggest theatre enthusiast, he had a soft spot for broken things, such as this dying place. He had come to this opera with the intent of birthing a new golden age.

“La Carlotta” announced Monsieur Lefèvre, the leaving manager, “our prima donna”. He also presented other important figures of the opera: Ubaldo Piangi, the leading male voice, who seemed to be La Carlotta’s lover; Madame Antoinette Giry, the ballet instructor; and her daughter, Meg Giry, the leading dancer. Ubaldo appeared to be as full-of-himself as the soprano was —their possible romance made sense—, Madame Giry was a stern woman —she looked fearsome with the dark cane she carried—, and the young dancer looked joyful and bubbly. «Quite the colourful group» Raoul noted.

“Please, prima donna!” exclaimed André. “Indulge us. Resume your singing.”

“Delight us, yes!” joined Firmin. “We’d like to hear you.”

With a smile too big for such a small, rounded face, La Carlotta turned to the crew and ordered everyone to move from the centre of the stage. She positioned and gave the music director a contemptuous look. The conductor then directed the musicians to play. Raoul flinched after a few seconds of loud bawling, he was about to leave the box and hide from the singing when a cold draft struck him.

He froze in place. «Someone’s close». He slowly pressed against the wall and his blue eyes scanned the lit hall beyond the box’s entrance. There was no shadow, no sound, no man or woman. Raoul relaxed, it was probably just a lost draft of air. His head cautiously peeked out of the entrance and looked around just to be sure. «No, no one to bother me».

Suddenly a loud, heavy thump bombed his ears; screams and shouts followed. It came from the stage. Quickly, the Vicomte turned his attention and saw La Carlotta hurled on the stage floor, heavy sacks of God-knows-what were next to her. Piangi ran to her side and took her in his arms. She weakly touched the back of her head and the hand came smeared with what seemed to be blood, she fainted at the sight. Raoul didn’t fully comprehend what just happened, but it was apparently an accident. «Did some dropped down sacks cause this?».

“He did it! The Phantom of the Opera!” shouted the girl Meg, almost as if responding to Raoul’s thoughts. “He’s here! The Phantom of the Opera!”

Ballerinas screamed frightened and Madame Giry tried to dissolve the chaos, the old manager fled while the new ones helped Piangi carry La Carlotta out of the stage. Meg Giry held onto one of the other girls, a red-headed one who looked familiar, but from afar Raoul couldn’t perfectly make out her features.

It was time to get down.

He took a step back, still facing the stage and shocked on how quickly it all turned badly. Raoul’s back bumped into something… «someone» he realized. He turned around and gulped down a startled shout: there had to be a man there, but it was too dark to see, the only visible thing was a white mask, looking down on the Vicomte. Strong hands closed on Raoul’s arms and then the darkness became absolute.


	3. The Birth of Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! And thanks to the lovely people that commented. I hope you like this (:

“What were you doing in box 5?” a deep, raspy voice demanded.

Raoul’s eyes fluttered open. He felt dizzy and lost. Gaining focus, he realized he was tied with rope to a chair. He tried to move but the rope was strong, although it didn’t hurt him. In the floor next to him was a single candle, enough to illuminate a tiny circle around him, but leaving most of this strange place in the dark. It smelled of dampness, it had to be underground or somewhere near water. «I can’t see a damn thing beyond my feet» he thought as he looked around for someone, for the voice that had spoken, it had sounded as if it came from everywhere.

“I do not like to repeat myself, monsieur.”

“That makes two of us” replied Raoul daringly. “I find it annoying as well.”

He could not see the man that hid in shadows, but he could feel his anger growing.

“I am not one for games” warned the voice.

“Then I shall not bother you anymore. Untie me and I’ll be on my way—”

A black-shrouded figure emerged from the darkness in front of the blond man, as quickly and almost sliding as a ghost would do. One big hand took a strong a grasp around Raoul’s neck and dangerously tilted the chair back. The young man thought that was it. «I’ve finally gotten myself killed» he thought, expecting his death. He and the tall figure locked eyes. The white mask he had seen before was now on a face, it covered its right side.

“Such courage,” the attacker was breathing heavily, “or perhaps just plain stupidity from an insolent boy.”

“I fear no man.” Raoul forced the words out of his squeezed throat.

“Oh, but I am no man.” He let go of his grasp and sank in the darkness.

Raoul breathed in as fast as he could, thanking whoever-was-above for another day. He replied when he felt recovered: “Then what are you? A ghoul?”

“A phantom, to be more precise.”

The Vicomte snorted in his mind. «A phantom! Of course, monsieur. There is no such thing as that». He did not believe in the paranormal, or in anything that his eyes had not seen directly. Not even God was real in his world. These were his brother’s teachings. When their mother, a seven months pregnant woman, and unborn sibling died tragically in an accident, Philippe told Raoul God was not real. He couldn’t be, how could He allow pain and horror if He existed? The brothers were just children, but they grew up with that mindset, and now it was embedded deep in their core.

“I can see that you do not believe me.”

Raoul startled. How did the man know?

“You’ll eventually do… And do not frighten, Monsieur. I bear no ill will.”

“You almost choked me to death!”

“My apologies if that is how you felt. I didn’t mean to harm you, just warn you.”

The man was nowhere to be seen, but Raoul felt as if he was pacing in circles around him. He felt like the prey of a beast… only not a prey? The movements of the masked man resonated deep inside Raoul; a strange connection. It was as if a lion was about to feed from him, but he did not feel hunted at all.

“Warn me?”

“About me being the one with power in here. I rule this opera, what I say is what’s done. I brought you here because I’m curious, not because I mean to kill you.” He chuckled —Raoul did not get the joke—. “But then, you disrespect me, monsieur. And I do not like it.”

De Chagny replied with silence, he didn’t know what to say. Slowly the man emerged in front of him and stood at the edge of the darkness.

“Would you please answer my question, monsieur?” His voice was still scarily low, but it had softened just a bit.

“Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Those are my title and names; you can choose whichever you like to call me.”

“I know your name, Vicomte. I go by Opera Ghost, but people call me the Phantom of the Opera. Choose either.”

“Fair enough… And answering your question before you choke me again, I was there to inspect the crew before actually meeting them.”

“Why?”

“I have plans for this place. I want to make it great once more, and that takes time and attention. I didn’t want to get caught off guard when being introduced to the people of this opera, I just wanted to see how they were before entering the party.”

“Rather odd that a young Vicomte comes out of nowhere and wants to help the Opera Populaire. Why is that?”

“I suppose I just like to fix broken things.”

The Phantom stood there for a few seconds, seemingly pondering.

“So, you’re the one that dropped those sacks con La Carlotta?” Raoul asked before the silence became too unnerving.

Dark eyes fixed on the Vicomte’s blue ones, and with a few strides the Phantom was standing over Raoul.

“If you truly wish to help this opera you must do what I say. Carlotta must leave, she’s one of the reasons of our failure.”

“I’ve only seen her perform once and I can’t say I disagree. But we’ll need someone to take her place.”

“Christine Daaé. She’s a chorus girl I have trained for a long time, and I believe now she is ready to become the leading soprano.”

Raoul’s eyes widened at the mention of that name, memories emerging from hidden corner inside his mind. «Little Lotte? Is it truly you?».

“Do you know of her, Vicomte?” The Phantom’s face came close to Raoul’s —perhaps a little too close¬—, his only exposed brow arched. The young man’s heart started beating fast. «Can he read my thoughts?».

“No, but I just realized I don’t know how much time has passed. I need to go back, introduce myself and deal with the Carlotta situation. Will you set me free now?”

The Phantom smiled. “You’re an angel fallen from heaven, monsieur. Finally, someone who cares for this place like I do.”

“You might be getting ahead of yourself. What if I’m lying? What if I’m just saying this to escape?”

“Like I said, I’m not just an ordinary man, and something tells me our interests may just align… Anyhow, do what I said and expect me to visit you.”

“Good, because I still have so many questions—.”

“Patience, young Vicomte.” The Phantom blew the candle and darkness ensued once more.


	4. Death, Violence & Distrust

“It’s midday” announced Meg, standing from the boudoir stool. “My mother must be on her way. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Christine, who laid in the bed, shook her head with a soft smile. “I’ll be alright, Meg.”

The ballerina sat on the bed and took the red-haired’s hands in hers. “I don’t want you to be alone, not especially after what happened to Carlotta.”

That morning had been chaotic. No even one hour of rehearsal had passed when the new managers arrived, when the Phantom of the Opera hurt La Carlotta. Meg was sure it had been his doing. _«How dare he cause this mess?»_ she pondered. Meg Giry had lived in the Opera Populaire since she had memory, her mother raised her amidst dances and music. And the people who considered this place a home —like all the orphan ballerinas— knew about the entity that ruled it. The Phantom was feared, as anyone would fear a ghost, but he knew what was better for the opera, and therefore everyone obeyed his wishes. Problems started a couple of months ago, his threats became real when one musician failed in two consecutive shows. The morning after the second mistake, the poor musician was found hanging from the centre of the stage, neck broken and tightened by a red lassoo.

Mother had always taught Meg not to be frightened. “He is strict, yes” she used to say, “but he is like a father, and a smart one at that.” Well, he was no father to Meg, not after the murderous nature of the ghost was revealed. She did not know much of the killed musician, but he used to smile and salute her from time to time. When the girl tried to confront her mother about the Phantom, the woman would ignore her. If the relationship between mother and daughter was already tense, the chaos of the last months had tensed it even more.

“You think the Phantom would hurt me?” Christine asked in a silly way. “I’m too tough for him.” She laughed gently.

Meg was not amused, but wary.

“I will be fine, really. He has no reason to hurt me.” She caressed her hands.

Meg was about to reply “Neither to hurt La Carlotta”, but she knew he did, or at least he thought he did. It was known that the Phantom had wanted Carlotta out for quite some time now.

“You’re right.”

“Don’t be so gloomy!” Christine exclaimed. She embraced Meg and pulled her to fall in the bed. “You’re always so cheerful, do not worry, love.”

Meg laughed lightly. “I know, forgive me.” She cupped her own face with her hands and smiled ridiculously. “See? Happy. You make me happy.”

The girls laughed and Christine kissed Meg in the lips. The first time they did it was confusing, both unsure if it was right. But with time, the joy their company brought indicated that their love and affection were not things to be suppressed. Meg blushed, just like every time their lips met.

“But I do have to go.” Meg rose from the bed.

Madam Giry had told her daughter, as Carlotta was carried away and the crew rushed off the stage: “Lock yourself and Christine in your room. Do not leave it by any reason, not until midday, then come find me in my own room.”

Fixing her hair, Meg now said to Christine: “I still do not understand how you remain unafraid of the Phantom, though.”

“I…” She appeared to measure her words, as if deciding whether to say something or not. “I guess I’m just brave.”

Meg smiled and opened the door.

“One day we’ll fly away. No more fear and no more ghosts.”

She left and the door closed.

❈ ❈ ❈

Five minutes had passed since Meg left Christine when the chorister felt a presence in the room. She turned to the mirror. Inside it glowed the white face of an angel.

“My angel” Christine whispered as she stood in front of the mirror.

“Are you alright, Christine?” asked the deep, rumbling voice.

“Yes. I was of course a little shaken after… the event, but I’m alright now. Tell me, is it true what they say? Was it you who hurt Carlotta?”

The white face remained unchanged. Christine saddened a little, not wanting it to be real. People feared, some even hated the Phantom of the Opera, but she knew he was no ghost or common spirit. When her father passed away many years ago, he sent from Heaven a protector, a friend: her own Angel of Music, who’d trained her voice and musical abilities. For a long time, she’d refused to believe the general idea that he was a demon. _«They just don’t know him like I do»_ she’d told herself. But after the death of the musician, she grew a little unsure. She had asked him about the matter, but he refused to admit anything. Deep in her heart, Christine knew the rumours were true, and it hurt her. And with what happened in the morning, Christine wondered what was happening to her Angel of Music. Why was he becoming violent?

After a long silence, Daaé spoke again. “I was thinking of telling Meg about you, that you’re my teacher. She’s the person I trust the most and I think it would make her understand you better…”

“I don’t think it will help anyone. It would only make things worse for all of us.”

Christine nodded. The atmosphere felt weird. Her angel was characterized for being distant, but there was always care in his treatment. This day was different, he felt heavier and darker, excited but malicious.

“Are you alright, Angel?”

“Beyond alright. Great things are coming, Christine.”

The girl opened her eyes in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s say two angels will now be looking after the opera, and after you, of course. The time has come for you to claim the role you’ve been training for.”

❈ ❈ ❈

Meg was about to knock on the door when it opened. Madam Giry walked out of it and closed it.

“You’re late” the woman said sternly.

“I lost track of time”.

Antoinette didn’t stop to talk, she strode quickly along the halls with her daughter following. Mother always had Giry accompany her when dealing with matters of the theatre because she wanted to teach the girl. “You’ll take my place when I’m gone” she had told Meg, “so you better learn my ways.” It seemed that no matter how loud Meg voiced her _no’s_ , the madam was intent on making her daughter stay in the opera. But the little Giry wasn’t planning on staying, she’d made up her mind and would leave with Christine as soon as they could.

“Where are we going exactly?”

“The managers’ office. They surely have no clue on what to do next, they just arrived and old Lefèvre already abandoned them. Carlotta won’t quit, but the Phantom wants her gone. This is dangerous.”

“I thought that demon’s will was always the right course” replied Meg sarcastically.

Madam Giry stopped abruptly and turned to her daughter. “Do not ever say that aloud.” Then she resumed the fast walk.

Puzzled, Meg continued following.

A lot had changed since the murder of the musician. Meg’s mother had always been and avid defender of the Phantom, surely she had been in direct contact with the Opera Ghost —Meg was sure about it—, but after the recent incidents the woman drew a distance.

Before they reached the office door, shouts were audible. They entered and found Messieurs Firmin and André, La Carlotta and Ubaldo Piangi all shouting at each other.

“I am the prima donna of this opera house! I will not leave!”

“We only worry about your safety! We’ve been told about this “ghost” and his threats!” answered Firmin.

“These fools don’t deserve you, amore mio!”

“Please, be reasonable. These things will keep on happening if…”

Madame Giry struck the floor twice with her cane, silencing André’s shout.

“When did we become animals who roar over each other? La Carlotta, let me only remind you that once the Phantom sets his eyes on a goal, he accomplishes it.”

“Is that a threat?” Carlotta was already red, but now she seemed about to explode.

“No, only a statement. We know the rules of this opera, and it seems that the new managers have already heard of how this game is played. If you, madam, do not fear for your life, good for you. But we care about what will happen to the rest of us if the Phantom is not obeyed.”

“So, if you wish to kick me out, who will measure to my talent then?”

“That is a good point” intervened André. “Without La Carlotta there is no leading lady.”

“Christine Daeé!” a male voice shouted from the hall.

A handsome, blond man entered the office.

“She is our new prima donna.”

Carlotta and Piangi looked enraged.

“Who is this?” asked the Italian woman.

“The new investor” replied Firmin.

“Vicomte Raoul de Chagny” the man introduced himself.

“Where were you, Monsieur?” asked a confused André. “And how come you give us a name? We haven’t told you about the situation.”

“Ah, yes” smiled Raoul, breathing fast. He seemed to be in a rush. “Please, tell me all about it and then I’ll repeat the name: Christine Daaé.”


	5. The Plans in Motion

After what seemed to be an eternity of more complaints and not-so-passive-aggressiveness, the vicomte lost his patience.

“Enough, madam. Let’s put it simple and clear: we’re letting you go, we don’t need your talent anymore at the Opera Populaire.” Raoul forced himself to smile.

Carlotta took a few steps towards him and brought her face close to his, menacing. Her fierce scowl made Raoul feel as if he was tiny, but he kept a non-violent yet hard look.

“I’ve given my golden years to this opera house and this is how I’m repaid.” Her voice calmed a little, there was a tone of disappointment in her speech. “Let’s see how you please both the audience and the stupid ghost. One day in charge and the managers and their pretty boy think they know how to rule this place. This opera is doomed. Let’s go, Ubaldo.”

The now jobless woman took a dignified turn and left with her head high. Ubaldo followed, spitting at Raoul’s feet before leaving. The young man pressed his lips in a thin line, a parody of a smile, and closed the door after the angry couple left. He looked at his shoes and Meg gave him a piece of cloth. He thanked her.

“It comes with the job” André said as the vicomte cleaned himself.

“You’ve only been on the job one day, monsieur” pointed Mme Giry.

“Well, right. But I’ve been told it’s not easy” he laughed awkwardly.

“Monsieur le Vicomte” said the young Giry with her high-pitched voice, “how do you know of Christine Daaé?”

Everyone in the office turned to him with curiosity.

“I’m an old friend of hers. But please, do not tell her about me just yet. I’ll introduce myself when I think it’s appropriate.” After all these years, Raoul still kept her childhood friend near his heart, but he wasn’t sure if she’d remember him.

Meg nodded, still evidently confused.

“But who is this Miss Daaé?” exclaimed dramatically Firmin.

“A chorus girl” replied Madame Giry, “but one that has been trained rigorously. I agree with Monsieur de Chagny, she can take the leading soprano role.”

Raoul, as observant as he is, couldn’t help to notice that something in the words of the woman took Meg by surprise.

“Then we must meet her!” said Firmin.

“Hopefully she lives to expectations we now have!” added André.

“Meg, take them to see Christine” ordered Mme Antoinette.

The ballerina opened the door to leave, but before doing so she turned to the new investor.

“Monsieur, if you truly are a friend of Christine then I’m glad you’ve joined our opera house. But I must tell you, just so you know, beware the Phantom of the Opera, he is dangerous.”

Her mother hit the floor with her cane. Meg took that as a cue and with a smile she left, leading the managers. Raoul walked to the hall and sighed, watching them leave. Giry stood next to him.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but I imagine you were busy this morning if you couldn’t join Messieurs André and Firmin in their arrival.”

“Indeed. I had to attend some business, family affairs” Raoul said in the most charismatic way possible. The woman was immediately not of his liking, but there was no use in being rude.

“I see. I’ll be straightforward, monsieur. Do you believe in ghosts and phantoms and things of that nature?”

“I believe only in what I see.”

“So, you do not believe in our Opera Ghost?”

“If I saw him face to face, I would.”

She squinted her eyes, as if reading the man. Raoul felt on edge. What was the woman thinking? Did she sense he hid something?

“Well, let me tell you he is very real. And he doesn’t like being challenged or disobeyed, he rules this place and wants to make it great, even if his methods are…” she turned sombre, “strange.”

“Then I think this spirit and I are going to get along very well, I too have plans to bring life to the Opera Populaire.” Raoul shooshed away Giry’s concern. He had met the Phantom, and although he was frightening —and intriguing—, he was a man, just like Raoul.

“Don’t underestimate him, vicomte.” She slowly walked, starting to leave. “Believe the Phantom is here, watching and listening.” She lowered her voice. “Believe he is powerful and dangerous. Although something tells me you already know he exists…” Her voice echoed and drifted away as she disappeared beyond the hall.

 _«Bloody hell! This place is unbelievable»._ Raoul looked around. It did feel like someone was watching all the time. He thought of the man behind the phantom façade and wondered when they’d meet again.

❈ ❈ ❈

“Absolutely incredible!” shouted excitedly Firmin as he clapped.

“Miss Daaé, you truly are a star!” André said. “You must start rehearsing tomorrow. You’ll be the leading lady in _Hannibal_. You’ll shine on the stage!”

Christine could only blush and repeat thankyous. After years of training with her Angel of Music, her voice had become almost flawless, although Christine didn’t like to say so due to her humble nature. A couple minutes more full with praises passed by, then the managers excused themselves and left the room. The door close, Christine and Meg jumped around cheerfully and then hugged.

“You’ve made it, Christine! All this time rehearsing alone in your room finally paid off. I used to think you pushed yourself too hard, but you were right. You’re always right.” She kissed her.

“No, I’m not!” she laughed.

“This is our way out. You’ll become this famous singer and then, when we have money…”

“We’ll leave the opera house.”

Christine looked at Meg with such happiness, and she felt the same love radiating from the blond dancer. They kissed again, then laid in the bed.

“And I must tell you something odd. My mother knows about your talent, I don’t know how. I thought only you and I knew about your secret rehearsals. Could she be spying you? Spying both of us?”

“She knows?” Christine sat quickly.

“Yes! I was about to say: _Christine can take the lead!_ , but out of nowhere the new investor—”

“Meg…” Christine interrupted her. “I have to confess something, something that might upset you. Now that I’m to take the stage as prima donna, I must get something out of my chest.”

Meg sat as well, furrowing her brow. “What is it? You make me worry.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s not something bad, at least I don’t think it is… the Phantom is my teacher. He is no demon or evil creature, but an Angel of Music.”


	6. Becoming a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! It's been... some time. I apologize for the absence. It hasn't been the best months, but I do want to keep the story going. So, if anyone is interested, I hope you enjoy this!

Very little moonlight sneaked into the small room, leaving almost everything in the dark. Raoul exhaled with tiredness, he had just entered his new room and, with his back against the door, he examined the bed, the tiny wardrobe and the mirror.

Back when brother Phillipe told Raoul he needed to become a man and find a job, the young de Chagny felt a little offended and promised he would find a better place to live in as well, just to prove he was capable of living an adult life by himself. But the truth is, after the first chaotic day at work, he’d found no time to look for a new home. So he asked a worker in the Opera if there was somewhere he could sleep, and he told Raoul that the old manager used to live there in a room. Now that the man was gone, Raoul accepted the now unoccupied tiny chamber.

«Maybe this is not the best idea» he thought as he sat on the bed. He tried to bounce on the bed but it wasn’t very soft.

Despite everything, he moaned happily as he laid his tense back on the mattress. Definitely harder than the bed back at home, but now even the floor would be acceptable. The young vicomte just wanted to rest.

He took off his shoes and stretched his toes, and tossed his coat on the floor. He felt the cloth of his shirt caressing his neck and shoulders as he was taking it off.

“Eager for some rest, are we, vicomte?

Raoul jumped on the bed, completely surprised. He quickly put the shirt back on and squinted. Under the dim moonlight a masked man stood, wrapped in a dark suit and a cape that was too long for the little room.

“Are you unfamiliar with greetings?” Raoul asked, recovering from the startle. “A «hello» would be just fine.”

The Phantom grinned and moved away from the moonlight, disappearing in the shadows that engulfed the room. Only his deep voice revealed his presence now.

“I thought you were more aware of your surroundings, monsieur.”

“Just this time it slipped my mind.” Raoul tried to keep his pride, he couldn’t let his guard down in front of the man, not just yet.

A low chuckle rumbled.

“You got rid of my problem. I must thank you.”

“Our problem. You must know I’ve no intention in being your pet.” Raoul loved to bend the limits of how daring he was allowed to be. “I can and want to bring glory to this opera house just as you. We’re equals.”

“You should be careful, monsieur. Bigmouths don’t live long around here.”

“You don’t seem so humble yourself, and a young lad such as I you are not from what I can tell. So maybe you’re wrong.”

Silence followed. Raoul tensed, maybe he should actually be careful with his words.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you, vicomte?”

“I know men like you.”

“But I am no man.”

“Right.” Raoul stood from the bed and faced the dark corner from which the voice came from. “I’ve heard that tale many times now. Everyone here believes it, but I’m not like them, and neither are you. Besides, if you were really a ghost, how then could I do this?”

The blond man’s arm darted into the shadows to grab something of the physical man he was talking to, but he only touched air. A laugh came from the other side of the room. Raoul turned confused.

“I know youngsters like you.” The Phantom of the Opera emerged from the shadows, his white mask shining. “Boys who think they’re men, boys who think they know the world and how to rule it. Pride taints your mouth, boy. You’ve got so much to learn still if you really want to do something useful in this place. Until then, you work for me, not with me.”

Raoul stood under the moonlight, feeling small and ashamed. He felt also a little anger at the masked man… Or maybe not at him, but at himself. What the pseudo-ghost claimed was right, that was what made Raoul upset.

“Am I your work now, monsieur? Is that it? How come you trust me? Or if not, why do you want me to believe you trust me? I’ve so many questions.” Raoul was desperate, he couldn’t hide his curiosity and interest anymore.

“You do some good questions, you do some pointless ones. It’s best if you stop them altogether.”

“Why? Would you kill me if I keep on asking? Like you killed that musician?”

The Ghost offered no answer.

“People talk about it. Is it even true? I need to know what kind of a man I’m dealing with.”

More silence. After a few seconds, Raoul exhaled, defeated.

The mirror in the wall moved slowly, silently. An opening revealed, and the Phantom stood in front of it.

“I will not spend time answering a questionnaire” said the tall, menacing man. “But I can tell you that if reviving the Opera Populaire is genuinely in your best interest, you’ll find a willing partner in me. I ask only trust in return.”

He extended his gloved hand. Raoul looked at it, his heart beating fast. He was debating with himself. He’d always been impulsive, but right now more than ever his head was shouting at him “You’re putting yourself in danger, stupid boy! Can’t you see it?!” Still, Raoul de Chagny didn’t care, the thrill of it all was too enticing to be ignored. He took the Phantom’s hand.

“Good”, the man said. “But remember, walking before running.”

Raoul nodded, his eyes lost in the white mask. «I’m doing this for the sake of the Opera» he tried to convince himself, but he knew that was not entirely true.

Into the darkness of a hidden world, a young man followed a ghost.


End file.
